


117 Apt. 9

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Derek is a Good Alpha, First Time, M/M, POV Alternating, Stiles is a college student, Top!Stiles, and works at a bakery, bottom!Derek, teacher!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-01-25 23:36:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1666640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a boy sleeping on his couch.  A boy who smells like beer and smoke and a million other unpleasant smells.  Derek should really not be thinking about how attractive he is, he really really shouldn't.</p><p>Or the one where Stiles drunkenly breaks into Scott's apartment for a place to sleep, but counts wrong and ends up on Derek Hale's couch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this at like 1 in the morning and wrote most of it while running on three hours of sleep. I'm not thrilled with it, but it was fun!  
> In this fic, Allison is alive and her and Scott are together. Everyone is in their early twenties, most of them are still in college and working horrible day jobs to pay for it.  
> This story starts off at Kira's engagement party. I don't really know or care who she is marrying, but let's just pretend she met some nice human boy at Beacon Hills High who is completely adorable and harbors no psychopathic tendencies, okay? Okay.  
> (also i guess most of Kira's family are drunks idk did i mention i was sleep deprived when writing this???)

PART I - STILES

 

Stiles hates parties without alcohol and he hates ex-boyfriends.  Combine them together and you end up with one unhappy sober Stiles.

"Is he looking at me?" Stiles asked Scott for the third time in the last hour.  He was crouched behind a potted plant that was twice as big as he was, but was itchy as hell.  He had tried to make a break for the parking lot a few times, but every time Evan The Ex ended up in his path and he was forced to dive behind the nearest tall object.

Scott rolled his eyes, but because he was a good friend, he turned his head to search again, "No.  He is still talking to Kira and is still facing this way."

"Well when will he be _done_ talking to Kira?"

"How the hell should I know?" Scott snapped.

Allison laughed clear like a bell and wound her arms around Scott's neck, murmuring something about dancing, before addressing Stiles, "I imagine he is congratulating her.  That's what people do at engagement parties when they are not busy hiding from their jerk ex-boyfriends who they are not over."

"I'm over him." Stiles insisted.  He _was_ goddamn it.  That didn't mean he wasn't still pissed at Evan for being a completely crap boyfriend and then dumping Stiles by claiming that Stiles was the one not 'committed to their relationship'.  _Please_. "I just wish there was alcohol.  I could come out and prove how over him that I am if I had enough vodka in me.  Why isn't there vodka?"

"Isn't Kira's aunt like a drunk or something?"

"More like most of her family." Scott whispered, although it's not like it was a secret.  Kira had promised them to have another party later on where they could get completely shitfaced and make complete asses of themselves.  But this was not that party.

"Ah look it's your lucky day." Allison said, pushing some leaves out of the way.  Stiles followed her gaze to see Evan disappear into the house.

Stiles tentatively took a step out, "Okay, I really don't want to see him right now so I'm going to leave.  Tell Kira I'm sorry and that I'll see her later.  Can I take your car?" Stiles's Jeep had been at the garage for the past month forcing him to carpool with Scott or Allison everywhere.

Scott nodded and fished in his pockets for the keys, "You're not going to get drunk are you?"

"Oh, absolutely." Stiles said cheerfully, backing up towards the parking lot.

Allison grabbed Scott's hand and started dragging him towards the dance floor, "Please don't drive drunk!" He called after Stiles, "Just stay at my apartment tonight.  It's literally a block away from that bar you like."

"Which one is it again?" Stiles had literally been to his apartment once.  Out of the lot of them, not only was Scott's apartment the smallest, but he also owned like three pieces of furniture and had nothing in his fridge but ketchup and Mountain Dew.  He spent the majority of his time at Allison's, but they refused to move in together because that was apparently a big step that neither of them were willing to take.

"Apartment 8.  Second floor, second to last.  There'll be a key under the mat."

 

There was not a key under the mat.  Stiles picked up the mat for the third time, swaying under its weight.  He definitely should not have had that last shot.  Or any of the ones that preceded it.  He collapsed against the door--it had been a remarkably crappy night.  He had went to one of his favorite dive bars but none of the hot bartenders were on and, because it was a Tuesday night, the place was full of 40-something men and women who just sat at the bar drinking and looking really depressed.  One of them threw up on Stiles's shoes when he got up to leave.

This was all Evan's fault.  His fault for not being able to keep it in his pants for five seconds, his fault for sleeping with not one but four of Stiles's friends, and then claiming that it wasn't his fault because Stiles wasn't 'paying enough attention' to him.  Stiles felt the familiar sting in the back of his eyes and he immediately blinked the tears away.  He was _not_ crying over that jerk.  He had moped, he had pined, he had cursed Evan's very existence.  Now it was time to move on.

As he stumbled up, he noticed that the front window was open a crack.  He leaned closer, using the wall the support his weight and he gently put pressure on the window.  The pane slid open soundlessly.  The screen on the inside was flimsy--he only had to put the slightest pressure on the corners before it too was sliding off to the floor.  Stiles winced at the slight sound it made, but it's not like it mattered.  Nobody was home.  But if somebody happened to see him breaking into an apartment, things would probably get messy.

He slid his leg over the sill and climbed inside.  The living room was pitch dark, the only illumination from the dim moonlight streaming in the open window.  It was enough to Stiles to see that in front of him was smooth carpet instead of the couch that was there previously.  More evidence of Scott re-decorating came as Stiles stumbled around the room, bumping into a few shelves and a table before finally finding the couch.  Stiles sunk down into it happily and within moments was asleep.

 

PART II - DEREK

 

There's a boy sleeping on his couch. A boy who smells like beer and tequila and smoke and a million other unpleasant smells. Derek should really not be thinking about how attractive he is, he really really shouldn't.  He can't really help it, though.  The guy is long and lanky and probably only a few years younger than himself, maybe early twenties.  His perfect bow mouth is completely opened and he's even drooling a little bit onto the sleeve of his t shirt.  It's kind of cute.

 _Stop_ he mentally chastised himself.  The boy should definitely should not be here.  Derek did a quick scan of the room and is relieved that his tv and laptop are still there.  Although why kind of robber stops to take a nap?  The place is still clean, but his screen for the front window lays on the floor and the window is still open all the way.  So the boy broke in to sleep?

"Hey." He said, but it comes out a little broken, his voice still roughed up with sleep.  He cleared his throat, "Hey!"

The boy didn't stir.

"HEY!" He tried again, a little louder.  Nothing.

He can't help but think Laura would find this absolutely hilarious.  Standing in front of a sleeping possible-robber trying to figure out how the hell to wake him up.  He could probably call her - she lived in the apartment down the hall.  She could have the guy out the door on his ass, the police called, and coffee brewing without even batting an eye.  But then she'd probably make fun of his incompetence for the rest of his life.  He was the alpha goddamn it.  He could do this.

"Hey." He grabbed the boy's shoulder and shook roughly, "Hey!  Get up."

Derek was right in his face when the boy jerked awake.  His eyes were a luminous amber color and fixed on him right away.

"Wow." He breathed out and Derek tried not to gag on how bad his breath smelled.  There was no doubt about what he had been doing the previous night, Derek was surprised he was still breathing.  He must have one hell of a hangover.

As one second faded into the next, the boy's confusion seemed to clear up and he jumped into a sitting position on the couch, "Who the fuck are you?"

"Who are _you_?"

"I asked you first!" He squeaked. 

Derek could hear his heart pounding in his chest and he took an step away from him, giving the kid his space, "Well you're the one trespassing in my place.  I think I get to ask the questions."

"Trespassing?  What the hell are you talking about?" He flung his arms around, "My friend Scott lives here.  You're the one trespassing..."

As he talked, his eyes scanned the room, seeming to take in everything.  He trailed off and his eyes flew back to Derek's face, " _Oh_."

Derek stifled a laugh, "You said you were friends with Scott?"

He nodded jerkily, his eyes wide.

"He's in apartment 8.  Next door."

"Oh my god." He jumped to his feet, reaching down to grab his sneakers, "I am sorry.  Holy shit, I am so sorry.  I was really drunk last night..."

He kept talking, about his night, about some boyfriend named Evan and Scott's name again, the words blurring together as they came out faster and faster.  Derek didn't bother trying to keep up, he just waited patiently until finally his rant tapered off.

"I don't shut up when I'm drunk.  Or hungover." He finally said, sounding apologetic, "So I'll just...yeah I'll just go.  I'm so sorry."

"Wait!" Derek found himself saying, ignoring the stupid little voice in the back of his mind (that sounded an awful lot like Laura) asking him what the hell he was doing.  He didn't know, he just knew he didn't want the kid to leave, "I have to go to work."

The kid just stared at him.  _Probably wondering if you're clinically insane,_ the Laura-voice pitched in helpfully.

"I just meant," He swallowed, feeling like an idiot, "Just...um, you can use my bathroom.  If you want?"

He just kept staring, long enough that a blush began slowly creeping up Derek's nape.  He was blushing like a goddamn teenager.  Derek needed to get the hell out of here.

 "Yeah.  That'd be great.  Thanks."

 

PART III - STILES

 

 _You are a fucking idiot,_ Stile's inner voice chanted in his head.  He had been in the bathroom for ten minutes now.  He had peed and washed his hands and splashed some water on his face and the back of his neck.  All of that took about one minute and the other nine minutes were spent killing time, dreading the moment when he would have to come out and face the guy _whose house he broke into_.

He really don't know why he even agreed to use the guy's bathroom.  Only the fact that he bladder was killing him and he knew he probably smelled like a brewery convinced him to say yes.  But, hell, he could have just hopped next door and used Scott's.

Stiles slid one of the drawers of the vanity open, wincing when it squeaked.  It was empty regardless.  The guy's medicine cabinet was downright sad, nothing but a prescription bottle for a drug he didn't recognize.  The date on it was several years old so obviously whatever it was the guy wasn't taking it.

"How the hell do you know have aspirin?" He muttered, sliding opening another drawer.

The second one contained a lone chap stick.  The third had, _hello_ , condoms.  Stiles slammed it close, not even caring about the noise.  He was definitely not thinking about that guy and condoms.  Nope.

Because _of course_ the guy who lived here had to be hot.  When Stiles first opened his eyes and saw him, he thought it was a dream.  Although most of his fantasies starred guys who fit more into the pretty boy category, he could appreciate how unnaturally sexy this guy was, with the strong broad shoulders and clear hazel eyes and the stubble darkening his jaw.  Until he realized that the guy was real.

Now that the initial shock and shame has wore off, Stiles just felt run down.  His head was pounding and his hands were shaking and he just wanted a shower and coffee and a bucket of ibuprofen.  He fished his phone out of his pocket.  The battery was almost gone but he had enough juice left to fire off a group text message.

_'meet me at the diner in 10'_

Within thirty seconds he already had two responses: one from Scott and one from Kira.

 _'ok'_ and _'fuck u'_

Stiles stifled a laugh and placed his hand on the doorknob, steeling himself to leave.

"You can do this, Stiles." He whispered. "You will just go out there and say you're sorry.  Then you'll leave.  It'll be okay."

Yeah, okay.  He swung the door open and stepped into the hallway.  The apartment was quiet and Stiles immediately got the sense that nobody was here.  But that couldn't be right.  He took a few hesitant steps into the living room.

"Hello?"

The kitchen and front room were both empty, but he noticed the screen was picked up off the floor.  It was leaning against the wall and the window had been closed and locked.  On the coffee table sat his shoes, placed neatly next to each other and a piece of paper.

Stiles picked it up _._ _Had to go to work, sorry.  but i heard you going though the medicine cabinet.  figured you might need these._

Underneath the note was a bottle of Advil.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The idea hit him like a hailstorm and he immediately pulled out his phone to call Scott.  
> It rang three times before he answered. "I have a class."  
> "Are you in class?" Stiles asked, trying to keep his phone from falling into the bucket of flour in front of him.  
> "No." Scott admitted, "But I have a class that I could be in. What do you want?"  
> "Does Derek Hale like pie?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this could be way better but it's been collecting dust in my drafts for too long. anyway enjoy!! the final chapter is all mapped out (I still have to write it) but it will be up HOPEFULLY before the new season starts.
> 
> this is completely unbeta'd so any mistakes are my own.

PART I - STILES

"Wait a second, you did _what_?” Erica asked incredulously.

Stiles didn’t look up; he focused solely on emptying two packets of sugar into his coffee and then stirring it methodically, “You heard me.”

"Well it sounded like you said you broke into somebody else’s apartment." Alison said cheerfully, "But I think we’re all hoping that you have some reasonable explanation."

"I’m not." Erica said immediately. Stiles glared at her and she just laughed, "What? Last night was a complete bore so I need some excitement." Kira shot her a look and Erica shrugged, unapologetic.

When Stiles had made it to the diner, Scott, Allison, and Kira were already seated in their usual booth, the girls looking remarkably put together considering it was eight in the morning. Scott had his head on the table and looked as if he had been dragged forcefully out of bed. Which was probably the case. But Allison had thought to order coffee for Stiles like the angel she is. Erica had stumbled in twenty minutes later, still her pajamas and slippers, her hair a wreck, and had dropped herself dramatically in the booth next t Stiles declaring that "there had better be a good reason I am here at this ungodly hour."

Apparently this story was a good enough reason since Erica stared at him, her eyes expectant, “So what happened? I’m guessing he didn’t call the cops since you didn’t call us to bail you out."

"My dad’s the Sheriff, I wouldn’t need you guys to bail me out." Stiles reminded her.

“Stiles.”

"Fine, okay! I woke up, it was awkward, I left."

"I have a feeling you’re leaving out major details." Allison pouted.

"He is." Kira stuck her tongue out at him, "Now tell us what really happened or I will pretend to be a concerned neighbor and anonymously report you for breaking and entering."

"I wouldn’t have told you guys this if I knew you were going to make fun of me." Okay that was a lie. He had known as soon as he texted them that he would have to endure years of mocking if he told them the stupid thing he did last night. But they were his friends. It was a universal law that when you do something stupid, you call your friends and tell them about it. And endure the inevitable abuse that would follow.

"It wasn’t my fault okay!" Stiles insisted, "He left his window open. Who the hell leaves their window open in that neighborhood?"

Allison snorted, “It’s not exactly a hot crime spot.”

"Plus, Derek’s an alpha." Scott pitched in, his head still on the table, "He probably thought nobody would be stupid enough to break into his place."

Erica laughed way louder than was necessary and Stiles ignored her, "Wait Derek?” He asked Scott. "Derek Hale?"

"Yeah." Their waiter appeared and Scott brightened considerably.

"Who’s Derek Hale?" Kira asked, grabbing her plate of waffles from the waitress happily.

To everyone who had grown up in Beacon Hills, Hale was practically a household name. When a fire started at the Hale House ten years ago, killing nearly everyone inside, it was a tragedy. When it was discovered that the eldest son Derek’s girlfriend Kate was the one who set the fire, it made national news. After the fire and the resulting media coverage, most of the remaining Hales kept to themselves, most notably Derek who moved to the far edges of Beacon Hills and only came into town when it was absolutely necessary. Stiles couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized him—he had seen pictures of the Hales a million times over the years.

Derek was the alpha of the Hale pack—well, what was left of them. There was only Derek and his sisters Laura and Cora. Derek was probably in his late twenties now, only a few years older than Stiles but old enough that he never shared a school with him. Cora Hale, on the other hand, was a freshman when Stiles was a senior in high school and they had the same yearbook class. She was quiet, abrasive, and more than willing to punch somebody in the face if they said or asked something she didn’t like. She kind of scared the hell out of him.

"He’s that guy whose family died in that fire like ten years back." Stiles told her.

"He’s also ridiculously hot." Their waitress winked, sliding a plate of pancakes in front of Stiles.

"Tell me about it." Stiles muttered as the waitress filled their coffee cups and then left.

"You definitely left out the part about him being hot." Erica glared at him, "Him being hot should have been the first thing you told us."

"I feel like such an asshole." Stiles said mournfully, ignoring her. Erica was always a bit mean when she was tired or hungry or breathing.

"You should. I mean, his girlfriend killed his entire family, the last thing he needs is somebody breaking into his apartment."

"Thank you, Erica." Scott said and turned to Stiles, finally showing a little bit of sympathy, "Stiles, I’m sure you’re fine. I mean he wasn’t mad right?"

"I don’t think so. But he did give me this." Stiles slapped the note that Derek had left him on the table, "And he left me Advil. What does that mean?"

"That he’s a nice guy?"

"It means he’s confusing. I made a complete ass out of myself and he left me Advil. Who the hell leaves does that for the drunk guy who broke into his apartment? The normal thing to do would be to call the cops."

"Maybe he has a crush on you." Erica said, already seeming bored of the conversation.

"I don’t think Derek gets crushes." Scott said seriously as Allison snatched the note out of his hands so she could read it, "I mean, I’ve lived next to him for three years and the only guests he ever has are his sisters." He frowned, “I don’t even think he has any friends.”

"How would you know anything about his social schedule?" Kira laughed, "You’re hardly ever home."

Allison rolled her eyes, "I still don’t understand how you chose the wrong apartment, Stiles. Scott still has those window decals up from last Christmas."

"You were the one who made me put those up." Scott said mildly.

"Yeah, well I didn’t mean you should leave them up all year. They’re snowflakes and snowmen, definitely a seasonal thing."

"Not a California thing to being with. They’re ridiculous."

"Then you should take them down."

"How about you do it if they bother you so much?"

"I’m not there enough for them to bother me."

"Well, it doesn’t sound like it—"

"Will you two stop acting like a married couple for five seconds?" Erica hissed. Stiles and Kira just laughed.

 

When Stiles was in high school, he applied to a bunch of different universities. He got accepted to most of him, but since he didn’t have any clue what he wanted to do, narrowing down the possibilities was impossible. He ended up just going to Beacon Hills Community College for a couple years. Four years later and he held a general studies associate’s degree and currently attended Beacon Hills University with still no inkling of what he wanted to be when he grew up. He mainly just went to school because it was expected. Whether it was community college or a big university, though, he learned pretty quickly that he couldn’t afford it. He worked a few dead end jobs a semester before finally finding one he liked.

He started at Ana’s Bakery his freshman year of BHU. He didn’t expect to like it; it was a small, locally-owned bakery right in the heart of Beacon Hills. The money was decent at best, but the owners were friendly and new to Beacon Hills, meaning they didn’t know him as Stiles the Sheriff’s Son. It barely took a week before he fell in love with the place.

After he left the diner, he ran home to shower and change clothes before he headed to the bakery. It was quiet when he walked in, the only person there was Ana’s daughter, Lydia, perched on a chair in front of the register, examining her makeup in a compact mirror.

"Hey Stiles." She said sweetly when he walked in, "How’s the life of crime?"

He stopped dead, “How the hell do you know?"

She just grinned, "Friends in high places."

He was going to kill Erica and Scott and Allison and Kira. In that order. He stomped into the back room, slamming all the doors on his way there but he could have sworn he heard Lydia laughing.

He got to work right away, but because Lydia had mentioned it (and that was the only reason goddamn it), his mind kept drifting to Derek as he kneaded bread and frosted cupcakes.

The idea hit him like a hailstorm and he immediately pulled out his phone to call Scott.

It rang three times before he answered. "I have a class."

"Are you in class?" Stiles asked, trying to keep his phone from falling into the bucket of flour in front of him.

"No." Scott admitted, "But I have a class that I could be in. What do you want?"

"Does Derek Hale like pie?"

It was silent on the other end for so long that he actually checked to make sure the call was still connected.

"You’re asking me if Derek likes pie." Scott said, slowly.

"Yes."

"And why?"

Scott’s tone immediately had a blush crawling up Stiles’s neck, which was ridiculous, “I’m thinking of bringing him a pie. Kind of a sorry-I-drunkenly-entered-your-apartment-and-slept-on-your-couch pie.”

"I didn’t know apology pies existed."

"Well, I’m not going to write ‘I’m sorry’ in frosting on it or anything, I just thought I’d ping him one. Bad idea?"

Scott laughed, "No. It’s very you."

Stiles groaned, "Okay, it’s a bad idea, forget I said anything."

"I didn’t mean that in a bad way!"

"Well what flavor should I make him? What’s his favorite pie?"

"Literally all I’ve said to the guy is ‘hi’ while walking past him in the hallway. We don’t get together and have sleepovers and talk about our deepest, darkest feelings."

"All you had to say was you didn’t know.” Stiles muttered, “And knowing what kind of desert somebody prefers is not a deep, dark feeling."

"You’ve met Derek right? He’s not exactly social. I think even his shoe size is a deeply guarded secret."

"Well if you ask a guy his shoe size, it’s almost like you’re hinting at something else…"

"I am HANGING UP NOW." Scott declared and the line went dead.

 

PART II - DEREK

Derek doesn’t have friends. He doesn’t really have anyone. He has his sisters and his pack and the two are one and the same. He supposed he had his students, although they were idiotic teenagers so they probably didn’t count. It was during class that day, as his final class was leaving (also known as the only time in the day that he got any peace and quiet) that he realized the kid in his apartment was the first person in his age group that he talked to in over six months. That’s if various cashiers and waiters don’t count. Which, according to Laura, they don’t.

_Responding to paper or plastic is not a social interaction, Derek._

Either way, that was obviously the reason why Derek couldn’t get Stiles out of his head. The only reason, Derek convinced himself as he ran after work. He usually had a morning and afternoon run, but the former couldn’t happen that morning for obvious reasons.

Stiles Stilinski. It had taken a while for Derek to place him, but he couldn’t get the weird sense of familiarity out of his head. He had never really known Stiles, not really. They were five years apart, but he knew his father. Sheriff Stilinski was only a deputy during the fire, but he was kind. He remembered the deputy wrapping him and Cora in a blanket as they sat in the back of an ambulance waiting to see if the paramedics and firefighters would bring out any of their family members alive. Laura was the only one.

Laura had massive injuries and stayed in the hospital for over three weeks. It was at the hospital that Derek met Sheriff Stilinski for the second time and Stiles for the first. Stiles was a small boy with too long limbs who sat on the edge of a chair, tapping his foot incessantly. He was the only one weeks who didn't look at him with overwhelming pity.  He had just said ‘Sorry for your loss’ as sincerely as an eleven year old could and he and his father were gone moments later.

When he got back to his building, Laura was standing in her open doorway and stuck her foot out as he ran past. He swore as he sidestepped her and Laura was laughing as he slipped into his own door.

Living down the hall from his sister wasn’t really something he planned. And it really didn’t make any sense. The apartments were small, there was barely any hot water, bugs came and went and it took weeks for maintenance to fix any repairs, which were frequent. The rent was cheap, though, which was why the complex mostly attracted students either in school or out of school and suffering from crippling student loan debt. Derek lived there when he went to BHU and Laura moved in down the hall to be close to him. She made noises sometimes about moving into Beacon Hills, someplace nicer closer in town but Derek didn’t want any part of it. He had been avoiding his hometown and its residents pretty successfully for ten years and wasn’t looking forward to breaking his streak. He worked and pretty much lived in Beacon Heights now and he liked it. Liked the anonymity, of nobody knowing him as anyone besides Derek Hale the high school teacher.

He peeled off his t shirt in the bathroom and reached to turn on the water in the shower when he heard knocking on the front door.

He sighed, walking the five steps from the bathroom to the door, "Laura I’m bus--"

Stiles stood on his doorstep. He looked pretty much the same—his hair was still messed up, but more artfully so and he smelled like a mixture of soap and sugar. He wore a pair of jeans with holes in the knees and a faded t shirt and a smile that lit up his whole face. He was so goddamn beautiful Derek wanted to cry.

"What are you doing here?" Derek said and hated how it came out—sharp and demanding.

Stiles’s smile slipped a tiny bit, "Just thought I’d bring you something." He held out a box that Derek hadn’t even realized he was holding. It was big and white and had _Ana’s Bakery_ scrawled on the side. The bakery name was familiar but Derek couldn't place it.

Derek took the box woodenly—it smelled pleasantly of apples. Stiles shoved his hands into his pockets and his gaze traveled from Derek’s face down his chest, reminding Derek that he was shirtless.

"Sorry. I, uh, went for a run. Just give me a second." He backed up into his apartment, gesturing Stiles to follow him. Stiles followed him somewhat tentatively and Derek put the box on the kitchen table before running into his bedroom. He tore through his dresser frantically, grabbing the first shirt he found and pulling it on before running his fingers hastily through his hair.

When he came back out in the dining room, Stiles was leaning against his table looking extremely awkward. He jumped when Derek came back.

"Yeah, it’s an apple pie." He said, gesturing to the box on the table, "I kind of wanted to come here to apologize while I was sober. I promise I’m not usually like that. I’m not some drunk who gets hammered and stays at a friend’s house in lieu of drinking and drinking. Not that I’m condoning drinking and driving." He winced, "I’m just really sorry."

Derek smiled, trying like hell to make it look reassuring, "It’s really not that big of a deal. It was sort of entertaining."

"Well I’m glad. I didn’t want to come here empty handed and I work at Ana’s Bakery." He scratched the back of his head.

"Yeah my sister likes it there a lot." Derek said. This isn’t awkward at all.

"Okay well I can go. I just wanted to drop by. I hope I didn’t make you late for work or anything."

Derek shook his head, "No, I usually have to go in early anyway so I was good."

"Where do you work? If you don’t mind me asking?"

"No, no." Derek sat down on one of two chairs and Stiles followed him, sitting down opposite him tentatively like Derek was going to change his mind and tell him to get out of his house.

"I’m a high school teacher."

"Really?" Stiles said in surprise, "I wouldn’t have pegged you for a teacher. What do you teach?"

"English. For tenth graders."

"Not in Beacon Hills though?"

"No. In Beacon Heights."

"Why don’t you come into town anymore? I haven’t seen you around since…well." Stiles looked down the the table, "Sorry. You don’t have to tell me."

"No, it's okay. It was just hard. After…well."

"Yeah, everyone just assumed you moved. But then Laura came into the station a few years back and mentioned you and…well everyone was pretty surprised that you were still here.”

Derek rolled his eyes, "Yeah, well I got really tired of being the town charity case. Everyone either stared at me like they felt bad for me or like I was some sort of monster."

Stiles frowned, "Really? That’s ridiculous. People can’t actually believe it’s your fault."

"Well it kind of was." Derek said and immediately wanted to take it back. He knew that wasn’t true, not completely. It definitely wasn’t the main reason it stayed out of Beacon Hills. It had been ten years. He had made his peace in his role in what happened—it had taken a long damn time but he had gotten there.

“I didn’t really mean that.” He said in the awkward pause that followed, “There’s a lot of memories and a lot of people who knew me, knew my family. So I just stay away."

"Seems kind of like you’re hiding." Stiles shrugged, "If you ask me, it’s the girl who actually committed the crime who should be hiding, not you."

"She is." Derek said bluntly and Stiles winced. By the time the cops had even realized the cause of the fire was arson, Kate was long gone. When they finally put the pieces together, there was a nationwide manhunt for Kate Argent, which mostly turned up empty. She had family in France, which Derek told the cops and he suspected that’s where she was. Even though the search for her in the area had turned up empty. Kate was good at disappearing, at staying out of sight. It had seemed dangerous and wonderful when they first started dating. Kate insisted they needed to keep their relationship and a secret and Derek agreed—Kate was older and he knew his parents would never approve. It turned out they were actually familiar with the Argents and had met her before when she put bullets into some of their pack members.

Stiles looked up and met his gaze and Derek was surprised that he saw none of the things he imagined he would see. There was a small trace of pity, but not one shred of disgust.

Stiles stood up abruptly. "I should probably go. I’m meeting Scott."

He smiled, "See you around, Derek."

"Yeah." Derek said, trying to smile, "Thanks for the pie."

He nodded and left and Derek immediately felt the loss, the apartment suddenly seeming too empty and too quiet. He pulled out his phone and dialed Laura’s number before dropping his head into his arms on the table.

Laura didn’t answer. Instead he heard her front door slam down the hall and the sound of her foot steps gradually getting louder until she burst through his apartment door.

“What was the Sheriff's son doing here?”

“I think I like him.” Derek muttered mournfully, not looking up as she dropped into the chair across from him.

“No fucking way.” She laughed, “No fucking way.”

At that moment the front door opened again and Cora walked in. She walked immediately to the fridge as she usually did. Her apartment was much further from BHU than Derek’s and Laura’s so she usually dropped by for dinner before going to her night classes.

“Why is Derek hiding?” She asked digging through Derek’s fridge, “And what smells like apples?”

“Derek is banging the Sheriff’s son.” Laura said.

“Am not!” Derek exclaimed, looking up at her.

"Not yet." Laura amended.

"Really? Stiles?" Cora all but purred, "He’s cute. He was in my yearbook class in high school. Kind of geek but in a good way. He was dating this asshole named Evan."

" _Evan_ Evan?  The one who used to pull your pigtails in grade school?"

"And whistle at me like you would at a dog when I walked down the hallway in middle school." Cora slammed the fridge shut and fixed her eyes on the box from the bakery, "Who went to Ana’s?"

"Stiles brought it."

"Stiles brought Derek a—" She lifted the lid, "apple pie? Why?"

"Because he broke into his apartment." Laura said, sounding bored, "Can we get back to the Derek having an actual crush for a minute?"

Derek glared at her but she didn’t seem bothered, blowing him a kiss.

Cora dug through his cupboards for a plate, "He seriously broke into your apartment?"

"Old news, Cora." Laura smiled, "So are you going to see him again?"

"Are we going to gossip now, Laur?" Derek asked dryly, "How about you come back in your pajamas and slippers. I can get a brush so we can braid each other’s hair and give each other facials and then and only then will I tell you that Stiles is totally dreamy."

"Stiles is dreamy." Cora said seriously, apparently giving up on her search for a plate and settling for eating the pie right out of the box.

Laura ignored her, "Just answer the question, Derek."

"I don’t know, Laura! It’s not like we’re friends. He came over to apologize and we’ll probably go another ten years without seeing each other again."

"He’s the Sheriff’s son, he’s not exactly hard to find. You’re being dramatic."

"Can you two just forget it. Okay? I’m don’t even know him."

"You know there’s this thing that people who like each other do to learn more about each other. Now what’s it called? Oh yeah."

Cora pointed her fork at him threateningly. "Dating."

 

 _This is a bad idea_ was the only thing running through Derek’s head as he stood on the sidewalk outside Ana’s Bakery. The place smelled amazing, almost overwhelmingly of sugar. He could see just a small glimpse of the store through the display of cupcakes behind the front window—a long counter, someone with red hair sitting behind it and pieces of tables and chairs. His heightened senses told him there was just two people inside—the person at the counter and hopefully Stiles or else this trip would have been a total bust.

 _Just ask him out_ was basically all his sisters had on the advice front, even though Derek hadn’t done this in over ten years. It was easier in high school. The people he liked were usually people he had classes with. So if they said no he didn’t have to suffer a long drive home feeling like an idiot.

He opened the door and walked inside before he could change his mind. The smell was stronger inside, if that was even possible. There was a pretty redheaded girl sitting at the counter, a magazine opened in her lap and barely looked up when he walked in.

“Welcome to Ana’s, how can I help—“ She stopped when she looked up and a smile spread across her face. Her gaze traveled from his face all the way down to his feet and back up again. Derek resisted the urge to run out of the bakery.

“How can I help you?” She said sweetly, crossing her legs in front of her.

"Is Stiles here?" He said, hoping he was the only who noticed the shake in his voice.

"Stiles?" She said in surprise, "Um, yeah. Stiles! Stiles get your skinny ass out here!"

"Will you chill, Lydia—goddamn it—" Stiles started. There was a loud crash followed by another muffled curse, but Lydia seemed unconcerned. She turned back to her magazine like she had never been interrupted in the first place. "He’ll be right out."

"Thanks." Derek stuck his hands in his pockets and tried to pretend like this wasn’t awkward. He was a saved a moment later when a man walked into the store. Lydia greeted him unenthusiastically and got to work helping him pick out what he wanted.

A few minutes went by before Stiles came out from the backroom, untying an apron from around his waist. "Okay, Lydia I’m out of here. I’ll see you—" He froze for a small fraction of a second when he saw Derek, but miraculously smiled right after, "Oh hey. What are you doing here?"

"I just came to see you." You are such an idiot, he thought, but kept going anyway, "I thought we could talk."

He nodded, climbing over the counter, "Yeah, sure. I’m off now. Lydia, I’ll see you tomorrow!"

Lydia just waved her hand in his direction Stiles grabbed Derek’s arm, pulling him from the store.

"Sorry, I didn’t know you were here. I would have came out sooner. I was just finishing up, sorry."

"You know we do that a lot." Derek said thoughtfully as they walked slowly down the sidewalk, Stiles busy with pushing what looked like flour from his sleeves.

"Huh? What?"

"I don’t know, we’re always apologizing to each other for stupid things."

Stiles just laughed, "I hadn’t noticed. But I think I owe you more apologies than you owe me." Stiles nudged him in the side, "So you came into town. How do you like it?"

He flung out his arms dramatically and Derek rolled his eyes, "Pretty much the same. The light in the ‘O’ on the bookstore’s sign is still out."

"Has that seriously been out for that long?"

"Yeah. Flynn’s Bokstore, doesn’t really instill confidence in the quality of their service."

Stiles laughed again and Derek practically whimpered—he wanted to record that laugh and set it as his ringtone.

They reached the park and Stiles gestured towards it, a question, and Derek nodded. Stiles ran towards the swing set like a kid, standing up on the swing before dropping down dramatically. Derek sat on the swing beside him somewhat mystified. He was on the swings at the park in Beacon Hills with Stiles fucking Stilinski.

"So what did you come here for? Must be pretty serious if you poke your no-going-into-Beacon-Hills rule."

"It was a rule meant to be broken." Derek said nonchalantly, totally not stalling at all. “I actually came to see if you wanted to go on a date."

Derek stared at Stiles as he asked, resisting the urge to stare down at his shoes and never look up. Stiles’s eyes widened a fraction in surprise.

"With me." Derek clarified stupidly when he didn’t respond, "I mean you don’t have to. Just forget it—"

"No, no." Stiles said swinging his legs back and forth, “Just a surprise.”

"Yeah." Derek stared off into the park, looking for a distraction but it was empty but for the two of them.

"Have you ever dated a guy?" Stiles finally asked, gently.

Derek’s eyes jerked back to Stiles in surprise, "Yeah. I mean—it’s been a while. There was one guy before Kate."

"Really? And after?"

Derek directed his gaze to his shoes, "There’s been no one after. At all. For a while it was hard and then…I don’t know. I haven’t even been attracted to anyone in over ten years. Until you."

Derek heard Stiles get up, abandoning his swing and his Nikes appeared in front of Derek’s boots. He looked up and Stiles stood in front of him. Stiles smiled slightly before looping his arms around Derek’s neck, leaning forward and kissed him.

Derek made a noise of surprise and kissed him back. A wonderful glowing feeling spread through Derek starting in his stomach and radiating slowly to the rest of his body. The kiss only lasted a few moments before Stiles pulled away. He didn’t go far, just turned his head so his check rested against Derek’s, his heartbeat just a hitch faster than normal.

He felt Stiles smile, "That was a yes by the way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY i just really wanted derek's first kiss in over ten years to be chaste and sweet. There'll be some sexytimes in the next chapter I promise.
> 
> check out my [tumblr](http://www.lliamdunbar.tumblr.com) if you want


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took me way too long to finish but I finally got there. v unbeta'd so it's probably riddled with mistakes
> 
> notice the rating has changed~ (this is also my first time writing smut so please forgive?)

PART I - STILES

_one of these kids just pitched the history of circumcision for his research report topic_

_hey I actually did that for an economics report in tenth grade._

_please tell me you’re joking_

“Stiles!” Lydia smacked her hand down on the counter hard making Stiles jump.

“What?”

“I’ve been talking to you for the past five minutes, will you please cover the counter for me?”

“I’m already covering the counter.” He said, spinning in the chair as Lydia glared at him. He hated the counter with a passion, hated dealing with all the customers as much as Lydia did. When they were both on, they usually flipped for who had to be stuck with counter and who could hang out in the back and he usually lost. He suspected she was cheating, but had no way to prove it. Today, thanks to Ana arriving early to put in some hours, most of the stuff was either done or being taken care of, so Stiles had been manning the counter with Lydia. And texting Derek.

“No, you’ve been talking to your boy toy since 8. Doesn’t he work?”

“His kids are doing a research report so he’s not paying attention to them 24/7.” Stiles said defensively, caught up on ‘boy toy’. He didn’t know what he and Derek were, if they were even dating. It had been a week since the park, since Derek asked him out and Stiles had kissed him. After that day, they had both gotten ridiculously busy—Derek’s students were working on their final projects and Stiles had to start preparing for exams. After their second canceled date, they had eventually just exchanged phone numbers and started texting back and forth. It was sort of adorable—Derek was probably the worst texter on the face of the earth. The previous night they had skyped and Derek’s fuzzy sleep deprived face on Stiles’s computer screen turned him on way more than he cared to admit.

“I’m going out.” Lydia declared loftily, “I will be back when I’m back.”

As she sauntered out from behind the counter, Stiles followed her in his chair, using his hold of the counter to pull him along.

“By ‘back when I’m back’, you do mean before 7 right? Because I’m off at 7.”

“Yeah, sure, 7.” She waved her hand dismissively before disappearing through the door of the bakery.

“Lydia!”

“Where is she off to?” Ana asked, coming through the door of the backroom. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun at the back of her neck and she wore an apron covered in flour.

“Probably off to go make out with Jackson.” Stiles said without thinking. _Oops_.

“Who?”

Lydia was going to fucking murder him. “Um, he’s just this guy. He works out on Friday nights at that gym down the road and Lydia sometimes goes to keep him company.”

 _Keeping him company by giving him blowjobs in the girls bathroom._ Not that Stiles had asked for that information, but Lydia had told him anyway. That was probably the worst part about being openly gay—most of his female friends talked to him like he was just another female friend. Except that he didn’t want to sit around talking about the intimate details of each others’ sex lives.

“Oh.” She said, distracted, as she pulled out her phone, “Have many people been in?”

Stiles breathed a sigh of relief, “No one in the last half hour.”

“Okay, you can go.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Get out of here, go enjoy your Friday night. I’ll grab Lydia if we get busy, although I doubt it’ll happen.”

“I have to study.” Stiles said with a groan, “Exams this week. But thanks.”

As Stiles pulled on his coat, he saw he had three unread text messages.

_you did not seriously do a report on circumcision_

_you can’t just say that and then disappear_

_ARE YOU JOKING_

Stiles fired off a quick text before getting in his car.

_I have to stop at Scott’s to get some textbooks so we can study. okay if i stop by real quick?_

The response was instantaneous. _Yes._

 

It took him longer than the usual twenty minutes it would usually take to drive from town to Derek and Scott’s apartment complex. Granted, it wasn’t totally his fault. He had to stop at the store to grab plenty of Red Bull and Doritos for the inevitable all-nighter Scott and him were going to end up pulling tonight. And he ran into a bunch of middle aged women who he vaguely remembered meeting maybe when he was ten, who hugged him and asked him how he was doing—one of the hazards of being the Sheriff’s son.

An hour had passed before he pulled into the driveway of Scott’s building, which was unusually quiet considering it was a Friday night. Perhaps all the college kids were cramming for their exams like him or they had just decided to party elsewhere. Stiles had texted Scott to tell him he’d meet him at Allison’s in about twenty minutes. Scott hadn’t responded, but knowing him, he and Allison were probably doing their own form of studying which included a lot less textbooks and a lot more making out.

He stopped at Scott’s first, letting himself in with the key and grabbing Scott’s chemistry and algebra textbook. He considered skipping Derek’s—he had a lot of studying to do and he knew Derek would understand, but he couldn’t resist seeing him if only for a few minutes. Derek’s apartment was quiet, only the illumination of a light through the front window curtains was a sign that someone was home. Stiles tapped lightly on the door.

“Come in.” A muffled voice said from inside.

Stiles opened the door and stepped inside and tried not to laugh at the scene in front of him. It was more than a little ridiculous—papers covered every square inch of the living room. Based on the half formed stacks on the coffee table, it looked like they had started out there and had gradually moved their way onto the couch and the floor, where Derek sat. He was leaning against the couch, a pen and paper in his hands, looking unbelievably frustrated.

“My students are idiots. Every single fucking one of them.” Derek said by way of greeting. Despite his adorable look of complete and utter despair, Stiles tried not to whimper at the sight of him. He was dressed in just jeans and a worn t shirt, but his hair was mused liked he had run his fingers through it countless times and his stubble was more prominent, like he’d skipped shaving a few more days than normal. He was so fucking attractive and it wasn’t fair.

Stiles lowered himself onto the floor across from Derek carefully, pushing some of the papers out of the way as he did so. He nudged Derek’s foot with his own and smiled, “So…what’s all this?”

Derek blinked in confusion for a moment like he had forgotten that it looked like he was sitting in the aftermath of a printer explosion, “This is all stuff for school. You don’t have to worry about ruining anything—most of this stuff is already graded. I’m just entering grades and a bunch of my kids turned in their research projects today.”

He rolled his eyes and helped up the paper in his hand. “Circumcision would have been better than this. Who the hell writes 10,000 words on snow owls?”

“ _10,000_ words? I thought you taught tenth grade.”

“ _I do._ I said the essays had to be 1500 words, but this kid apparently went above and beyond. I almost want to flunk him just on principal alone.”

“Well I was going to apologize for being late, but I doubt you noticed.”

“I didn’t.” Derek admitted. “What time is it anyway?”

“Almost six.”

“Seriously? Feels likes midnight.”

Derek started scribbling something in the margins of the essay and an easy quiet fell over them. The previous all-nighter caught up to Stiles and he thought about how easy it would be just to stretch out here, fall asleep for a couple hours. _Get your head in the game, Stiles, it’s not like you’re passing all your classes._

“Well I’ll go.” Stiles said when Derek was done writing. When he looked up, he was confused again, like he forgotten Stiles was there and it was so goddamn adorable Stiles felt most of his ambition drain out of him. With the memory of his ‘D’ in chemistry flashing like a warning sign in his brain, he gestured at the textbooks next to him halfheartedly, “I have to go cram for finals with Scott.”

“Oh yeah. How are those going for you?”

“Um, they’re not. I mean…yet. My first one’s tomorrow.” Each word came out slower and slower as he stared in Derek’s amber eyes. They were wide and deep and full of something that looked an awful lot like desire, like his head was right where Stiles’s was.

“Oh fuck it.” Stiles said, closing the distance between them and kissing him.

This kiss was nothing like their first--it was frenzied and frantic. Derek shoved the essay he was grading aside and grabbed Stiles's hip, pulling him down into his lap. Stiles groaned into Derek's mouth and ground his hips against Derek's lap. He could feel Derek growing hard against his thigh.

"Is this okay?" Stiles asked, moving his hand under Derek's shirt.

"Yeah." Derek said, his voice roughed up. Stiles grabbed Derek's shirt and pulled it off him.

"You are so fucking indescribable." Stiles said into Derek's mouth, running his fingers along Derek's chest, stopping to tweak his nipples. Derek moaned and leaned back, turning so he could lay down on the floor, pulling Stiles along with him.

Stiles hummed in appreciation as he pulled his own shirt off, leaning down to kiss Derek while undoing his pants. Derek trailed his hands all over Stiles before grabbing his own pants and pulling his jeans and boxers down in one fluid motion. Stiles groaned at the sight of Derek's cock--already rock hard and he fumbled to get his own pants off.

Derek laughed when he tripped pulling off his jeans, the bastard, and Stiles practically fell back on top of him.

Derek laughed again, grabbing Stiles's hair and kissing him hard.

"You're fucking beautiful." He said, moving his mouth to his neck, "I thought that the first time I saw you."

He bit down and Stiles moaned.

Derek kept his mouth on Stiles's neck as Stiles moved hands from Derek's neck to his check and back up to his neck. Stiles knew he was versatile. He both liked fucking and getting fucked, but he had never actually had to ask one of his partners what they preferred. Usually the sex talk came before actually having the sex so he always knew whether his boyfriends were tops or bottoms. Derek was a mystery--Stiles wasn't sure whether he even knew his preferences or if he'd even gone this far with a guy before. Sure, he had that Alpha male shit going on which usually translates to being a top but you couldn't always judge based on appearances. Right when Stiles prepared to ask The Most Awkward Question Ever, Derek apparently decided for both of them and turned over onto his stomach. Stiles almost came right there.

"You are killing me." Stiles mumbled, running his hands down Derek's back, stopping to run his fingers along the triskele tattoo. At least he thought it was a triskele, he remembered something similar in some supernatural website he browsed after Scott got bitten. _Why the_ fuck _are you thinking about supernatural tattoos right now?_

Derek turned back to look at him, "Do you have any--?"

"Oh...yeah of course!" Stiles said. Lube and a condom. Lube and a condom he could do. He reached for his pants, fumbling around in the pockets for his wallet and the supplies he kept there. He opened the packet of lube with shaking fingers. This was actually happening--he was going to sleep with Derek fucking Hale.

He took his time working into him, focusing on the muscles in Derek's back. When they were relaxed, he pressed just a bit further inside. It felt like it was forever until Stiles is buried to the hilt, hips flush against Derek's ass. He tries an experimental thrust and Derek moaned.

Stiles tried to go slow, he really did, but he failed after a few thrusts, his pace becoming erratic and desperate. He felt like he was too rough, but Derek didn't seem to mind, rocking his hips up to meet Stiles and moaning encouragement beneath him.

Far too soon, Stiles could feel his orgasm approaching. Stiles slowed down a little and Derek grumbled in protest. Stiles laughed, tangling his fingers in Derek's hair, turning his head for a messy, unfocused kiss that made him feel warm all over.

He stopped to reach around and get a hand on Derek's cock. Derek cried out in surprise as Stiles wrapped his hand around him, the precome making it easy to move his hand up and down in time with his thrusts. The angle wasn't great, but he kept his hand working on Derek's cock as he started moving his hips faster and faster. It was only a few short thrusts before Derek came with a shout.

The sound was so goddamn beautiful that Stiles moaned, letting go of Derek and moving even faster. His last few thrusts were too rough and completely uncoordinated, but Derek didn't complain, just tried to move his hips back to rock up into his thrusts, but Stiles was too far gone. It barely took any time before Stiles came, sinking his teeth into Derek's neck to muffle his moan.

Stiles collapsed against Derek's back, too tired to even pull out. They lay like that for a while until they both caught their breaths and their heartbeats slowed down. "You know." Derek said sometime later, "We should probably actually go on a date."

Stiles nodded, "Yeah. Later."

"Later." Derek agreed.

 

Stiles only gets a 68 on his chemistry exam, but he figured it was worth it.

 

 

EPILOGUE

"Can you please be careful with that?" Stiles begged the movers for maybe the ninth time. The mover grunted, but set down the box he was holding gently on the floor of the truck.

"What's even in there?" Scott asked, leaning against the side of the moving truck. All of his friends had stopped by to supposedly help him move, but all Scott had done so far was take over an hour to drink a cup of coffee and play candycrush on his phone.

"I don't even know." Stiles admitted, leaning against the truck as well, "But it could be important."

Scott rolled his eyes, "I doubt that."

”Hey! I have many valuable items in my apartment."

"Of course." Allison said, coming up next Scott and slipping her hand into his, "I'm pretty sure your impressive DVD collection isn't really fragile, though, so you're probably good."

Scott beamed up at her, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. Ever since they got engaged six months ago, those two had kicked their couple sweetness up to cavity-inducing levels. It was actually pretty adorable, but then again Stiles knew he didn't have to endure it much longer.

“I still can’t believe you’re leaving.” Kira appeared next to Allison, Erica and Lydia trailing behind her both looking annoyed.

“Don’t cry on me Yukimura.” Erica said sternly. “I swear to God if you cry again—“

“It’s a sad moment!” Kira insisted.

Derek came up behind Stiles, twining their fingers together and putting his lips to Stiles’s ear. “The movers are all done.”

Stiles nodded and squeezed Derek’s hand. Derek was constantly touching him whether it was holding his hand or putting his arm around him or just absently running his hand down Stiles’s back when he squeezed by him in the kitchen to get to the coffee maker. It was one of the things Stiles loved about Derek although there were a lot of things he loved about Derek.

“We’re not going too far.” Stiles said, turning back to his friends, “You can come visit whenever. I mean we’re renting a three bedroom house.”

It had taken a long time for them to decide to move. Derek wanted to get away from Beacon Hills and all the memories it contained and Stiles couldn’t resist the urge to get out of the town he grew up in and see what else was up there. They had decided on San Diego after months of debating. It left them in-state and close enough to Derek’s sisters and Stiles’s friends and family. He was transferring schools, too, moving from BHU to California Western School of Law. He had finally discovered what he wanted to do. His father was practically busting with pride telling everyone about ‘my son, Stiles, the lawyer’. It didn’t beat becoming a deputy and following exactly in his father’s footsteps but it came pretty damn close.

“I hate you. We all hate you.” Erica said cheerfully and everyone nodded solemnly.

“Just in case you’re wondering,” Laura announced, coming up next to Derek with Cora next to her. “Cora and I also hate you.”

“We hate Derek, too.” Cora pitched in when Stiles opened his mouth to protest.

“Yeah we’re not discriminating.”

“I’ll just miss you.” Kira said with tears in her eyes.

The goodbyes don’t last long. Once the tears started, they didn’t seem to stop and Stiles couldn’t even resist crying as he hugged his friends goodbye.

“You better call me every day.” Lydia says sternly, hugging him way too tight, “Everything fucking day, Stilinski.”

“I promise.” He said, letting her go and grabbing her hand to twine their pinkies together. Lydia smiled and burst into tears.

“What the fuck Lydia?” Erica demanded, although her mascara looked suspiciously smeared.

“Damn it.” Lydia rubbed her eyes impatiently.

Derek gave all of Stiles’s friends a quick hug, but as he turned to embrace his sisters Stiles could see the stress in his shoulders. He held on to Laura and Cora a long time before finally letting go. Laura gave Stiles a watery smile and hugged him quickly before shoving both him and Derek in the direction of their car.

“Get out of here before I lose it.”

Derek and Stiles climbed into Derek’s camaro, Stiles twisting his seat so he can wave at them as Derek drove. Erica was practically sobbing and looked outright annoyed because of it, while everyone else waved back and blew kisses.

As they drove down the road, Stiles gazed out the window, trying to remember every detail of the streets he grew up on.

“Are you sad?” Stiles asked a while later, turning to Derek.

“Yeah.” He said easily. “You?”

“A little.” He admitted, taking Derek’s free hand.

“Excited?” Derek asked a few moments later.

Stiles smiled. “A lot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so the sex scene could be 10x better (and i forgot the prep whoops) but I'm not rewriting it because like I said I'm a smut novice so I doubt it'll get much better. I'll work on my sex writing skills and be better in my next fic   
> as always, find me on [tumblr](http://www.lliamdunbar.tumblr.com)


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